


A Night of Seclusion

by GuitarMoogle



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuitarMoogle/pseuds/GuitarMoogle
Summary: [ ν ] – εуλ 0006 (about one year before the events of FF7/FF7R)In a room in Midgar's Sector 8, two people share a moment away from their ordinary lives.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Reno, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 17
Kudos: 20





	A Night of Seclusion

It was early in the evening and the sun had gone down, but the glow of burning mako and bright city lights illuminated the room. It was completely quiet aside from the ticking of his watch on the nightstand, the hum of the ceiling fan, and the crackling of his cigarette when he inhaled. The two of them listened to the room in silence for a while. She was the first to disrupt the ambience.

“So, what did you think?” 

“It was about what I expected,” he answered after a pause.

“What you expected? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. It went about how I thought it would.”

“And how was that?”

“Like I said.”

She let out a sigh. “I mean, was it good or bad?”

He took a drag on his cigarette. The smoke twirled in the air and diffused the light streaming into the window.

“Good,” he replied. 

“Oh. Good.”

She turned her back to him as he exhaled. Her hair was long and waved and let down and it reached her lower back. It hugged her hips and drew his eyes to them. He snuffed out his cigarette and turned to face the same direction she did. The slatted shadows of the window blinds cut through the light that shined on her. He edged closer. 

“So how about you, huh?”

She waited for a moment, as if to think.

“Good,” she replied. 

“Ah. Good.” 

She was quiet again. If not for the ticking of the watch, he would have thought time stood still. After a while she spoke again.

“Did you think it was weird?”

“Did I think what was weird?”

“The way I asked you to do this so suddenly. I probably seemed a little strange.”

“Yeah. But you’re always a little weird.”

He couldn’t see her face, but she smiled. She lay there smiling for a moment and turned back toward him. 

“Hey, can I have one of those?” She ogled the pack of cigarettes under the lighter on the nightstand. 

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. It seems like the right thing to do at a time like this.”

He scoffed. “Where do you come up with this stuff?” 

She smiled and raised her eyebrows with a shrug. He looked into her eyes. They were almost the same color as the plume of the reactor in the distance. He shifted his eyes to the pack of cigarettes and then back to her. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m fresh out. The last one was my last one.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“What do you mean ‘no it wasn’t’?”

“If it was your last one you’d have either thrown the pack away or said ‘shit’ or something like you always do.”

He looked at her with a confused furrow. She stared at him. She kept staring. 

“Sharp kid,” he said, picking up the cigarettes and lighter with one hand. He flipped the top of the pack, pulled out a cigarette, and placed it between his lips. He flipped the top of the lighter, sparked the flint, and held the flame to the cigarette. “But,” he said flicking the lighter closed again, “you’re still not getting one.”

“You’re so mean. What a tease.”

“I’m not letting you smoke. It’d be my ass if anything happened to you. You know that.”

“It’ll be your ass if anyone finds out about this too. You know that. That didn’t stop you from doing it.”

“Now who’s teasing?”

She grinned a playful grin back at him. He set the still burning cigarette in a notch on his ashtray and rested his hands behind his head. He looked up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. She did the same, as though to mimic him. The tick of the watch and the hum of the fan seemed to synchronize with one another. He looked over at the wooden basket full of flowers and the pink ribbon tied in a big knot around the handle. 

“Why’d we do this, Princess? Really.”

She didn’t answer. She kept her eyes on the ceiling. 

“Don’t tell me you’re just a sucker for a pair of blue eyes.” 

She stayed silent. Unmoving and locked in her stare. 

“Well, Cis and the boss talk enough. I can put two and two together.”

She had tears in her eyes but she didn’t sniffle or sob. She stared at the ceiling, trapped in her prison of light and shadow, watching the fan turn, with the unrelenting tick of time in her ears. 

“Alright,” he said. “It’s probably better if we don’t talk about it.”

She stayed there staring. She finally spoke. “Your eyes are calming. They’re like water.”

“Calming?” he laughed. “I think you’re the first person to ever put that on me.”

She turned away from him again. “Water suits you,” she said. “Like a river.”

“Or like the ocean.”

“I’ve never seen the ocean. The real ocean.”

“Right. That’s right.”

“I just mean you never stop moving,” she said. “Even when water is calm, it doesn’t stay still for very long.” 

He picked up his cigarette and tapped the lengthening ash into the ashtray. “Well,” he said, “sometimes when it’s hard to move on, the only thing you can do is keep moving.”

She turned back to him. “Speaking of which, I guess I’d better get a move on, huh?”

“I’m not gonna kick you out.”

“No, but I’ve got flowers to sell.”

She stood up and walked away from him. He tried to get one last good look at her hips, but her long hair draped over her back and obscured his view. After a few minutes she came out of the other room wearing the new red jacket that she had been so proud of the week before. She reached down and untied the ribbon from her basket. He watched her gather up her hair and fasten the ribbon and whatever was underneath into her signature high ponytail. She twisted her hair into a simple yet intricate braid and tied it at the bottom. 

“Thank you for tonight,” she said, picking up her basket. “I’m gonna get going.”

“Don’t mention it. Guess I’ll see you at the church soon.”

“Yep,” she smiled. She turned around and started toward the door.

“Hey,” he called to her as she began to turn the door knob. She spun around and looked at him. Her ponytail swung around her shoulder. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah,” she responded after a moment. “I think I may have even changed a little.”

He smirked at her and gave a wave as he turned and walked away. Hearing the click of the door behind him, he walked toward the window leaking light into the room. He waited and watched until he saw her walk out of the building’s entrance. She made her way down the sidewalk with the same bounce in her step that she always had. 

“No,” he said aloud. “You haven't changed at all.”

He looked over the avenue as she disappeared into the usual sea of people walking up and down the square. As his eyes followed her saunter past the big fountain, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the window. He wondered why he’d gone along with her little idea. He wondered. His phone rang. His heart skipped a beat then started racing as though to make up for it. He breathed a sigh of relief as the name “Rude” came across the screen. He answered the phone. 

“Heya, partner.”

“We on for tonight?” the low voice asked on the other end.

“Yeah, just finishing up some stuff before I head out. Don't worry. We’ll be gettin’ shithoused soon enough.”

He ended the call and laid his phone facedown on the table. He picked up the cigarette pack and flipped the top open. He looked inside.

“Shit."


End file.
